Episode 19 - May Temple

Cleo drove to the Temple house immediately. Mrs Temple asked her in and before long they were drinking tea in the living room and Cleo was listening to May Temple defending her equanimity. She was subdued but not saddened or weepy about Shirley’s murder. Someone at HQ had told her anonymously and she had rung back to check with the highest instance. Roger Stone was in shock and thought she should be.

May Temple told Cleo that she did not like sharing someone else’s sorrow if it did was not also hers. That would be hypocritical, wouldn’t it? She had not got on well with Shirley and was not going to blubber or be sad. Cleo thought that Colin’s information alongside this confirmation of May Temple's attitude to Shirley might be relevant.

***

Cleo wondered if a murderess would confess obvious hatred of a person who had just been found dead. It could be a double bluff. If she had used that tactic concerning her husband’s death, she would know that it worked.

So Cleo employed tactics of her own. She put on a show of agreeing with Mrs Temple whenever it seemed strategic and resisted the temptation to spoil things by showing even a trace of disapproval.

Swept on by her own momentum, Mrs Temple was soon indulging in an irrational tirade against Shirley and it wasn't long before negative comments about Shirley's father crossed her lips.

"But you must have been very sad to lose him," Cleo commiserated.

May Temple was silent. Cleo wished she could read thoughts. She could see from her body language that the woman was struggling with something.

"Would you like to tell me about it?" said Cleo in the soft voice she used to calm Gloria down if things got too melodramatic.

"He had a woman on the side," May Temple blurted out. "She was a waitress and not even West European; a slip of a girl with no culture and no scruples."

"Did she pester him, Mrs Temple?"

"Him and me. She had the nerve to come to my house and tell me to get a divorce. Bloody cheek. I soon put her in her place."

Mrs Temple sniggered. "Her name was Svetlana. Smelt horrible. I called her Sweatlana."

Cleo remembered what Colin had told her. Wasn't a young woman mentioned in his report? She had disappeared one day, never been seen again. Her disappearance had made it to the front page of the national newspapers for a day or two. But the press is fickle. As soon as the next drama turned up, they were on to it like bees round a honeypot.

"What place, Mrs Temple?"

"A place of no return, Miss Hartley."

May Temple was nodding her head as if in approval. And grinning. She was a really nasty individual - or was she insane?

"Where would that be, Mrs Temple?"

"That's none of your business."

“The tea’s good,” said Cleo, distracting Mrs Temple for a moment.

Cleo acted as if she liked the brew while wishing it was drinkable coffee. She wondered what May Temple had meant. Colin must check the time frame of those two disappearances. No one had wondered about the girl’s disappearance.

Meanwhile, Mrs Temple seemed to be falling into some sort of trance. Her eyes were fixed on the distance and she had torn her paper napkin into shreds.

Cleo persevered with the diligence of a psychologist.

"Free yourself of whatever it is that's troubling you, Mrs Temple," she said, matching May Temple daze with a hypnotic tone of voice.

The woman  suddenly looked searchingly at Cleo.

"And you won't tell anyone?"

"Why should I give your secrets away, Mrs Temple?"

That seemed to satisfy the woman.

"She's dead."

"Who?"

"That young woman. I coaxed her into the bathroom and drowned her in the bathwater I'd just drawn for myself. I'd added Shirley's magnolia bath essence. That was the best Sweatlana had ever smelt."

Cleo was horrified, but she pressed on without reacting visibly.

"And then?"

"She was light as a feather. I waited till it was dark, wrapped her in a big bath towel, carried her into the garage and stuffed her into the boot of the car."

"And then?"

"After supper, I drove down the road to the filling station and bought cigarettes as an alibi, in case someone had seen me in the car. Then I drove miles till I chanced on a rubbish tip in the middle of nowhere. I threw her in and that was the end of it."

Cleo was staggered at Mrs Temple’s cold-blooded account. The woman was short of breath, as if she were visualizing and even going through it all again.

"Is that what happened to your husband, too, Mrs Temple?"

"God, no. I couldn't have carried him."

"So how…?"

Mrs Temple seemed to be proud of her achievements.

"He’d taken sleeping pills because said he needed to rest. That was in the afternoon and I dissolved him a few more in his drink, so he slept soundly through all that bother with Sweatlana.”

“Had he been expecting Sweatlana to call, Mrs Temple?”

“It no longer mattered, Miss Hartley. He slept soundly and didn’t hear me drive off in the car with Sweatlana,” she said gleefully. ”Next morning I got him to take me on an impromptu trip to the Scottish Highlands. For his health, I told him. He bragged about his head for heights, so we went up into the snowy regions. Then he took up my challenge to stand on the edge of a vertical drop. He was just asking for trouble, old fool that he was."

Mrs Temple let out a guffaw that confirmed Cleo's impression that the woman was probably crazy, but it would be impossible to prove if she had been insane when she committed those two murders. She would reap the benefits, but Cleo knew that insanity did not mean that someone was not in their personal ‘right mind’ when they committed murder, or even if May Temple had known that her spouse had already cut her out of his will.

"I simply pushed him off with the end of my umbrella."

She demonstrated the deed by jabbing the cake-fork she was holding. Her eyes were shining.

"That took him off balance. Simple as pie. He was never found. He fell into a gully, I suppose. That was lucky. Do you want to see the umbrella?"

Cleo was lost for words. There wasn't just insanity in her voice. There was maliciousness and hatred, and – most awful of all – pride in her ‘achievements’. Whatever state of mind she had been in then, her memory was not impaired.

"So now you know, you can forget it," Mrs Temple concluded.

"Thanks for confiding in me, Mrs Temple. I value your trust."

"I knew you would. You'd regret it if you didn't. That fancy man might come a cropper with one of those meat axes of his."

Cleo shuddered. How did the woman know about Robert?

"And now, if you'll excuse me, I've got work to do for charity. Water in Africa, you know. Nice people even if they are…”

“Black?”

“No, I meant poor as church mice.”

Cleo stumbled to the door, actually hugged Mrs Temple and whispered thanks for trusting me again, got into her care waved and drove off. May Temple waved back with her metaphorically bloody hands.

Two perfect murders committed by someone working for charity. Cleo wondered how many other unwanted relatives and intruders had been disposed of by women now doing good deeds. Was charity work a form of repentance? Cleo did not think that Mrs Temple regretted what she had done, let alone repented.

***

Thinking came easier when the car radio was on mute. Cleo was now almost certain that Shirley's murder did not fit in with Mrs Temple’s  two previous ones. Ballistics would soon be able to say exactly what kind of a gun had been used. A small calibre, Gary had intimated. A woman's weapon, but Cleo did not think that Mrs Temple would have access to a gun. She had already told Cleo that Shirley had not been home the night before her death and that would be affirmed, probably by Roger Stone. No. Mrs Temple could be counted out as a suspect in this case. So who else apart from her could have wanted Shirley out of the way?

***

Cleo did not go back to the office after the horror hour with Mrs Temple. She did not drink much alcohol, but what she had heard from Mrs Temple had unnerved her and she thought a stiff drink might help. In the office she made it a rule not to drink alcohol unless a client needed to be fortified, when she would take a modest nip herself, but the stock of alcoholic beverages was severely depleted after she had entertained several distraught clients.

The Hartley cottage cocktail bar consisted of a couple of bottles of medicinal whisky in a cupboard, brandy and rum for baking and a bottle or two of Bordeaux on the kitchen worktop, more to enhance Robert’s exquisite gravy rather than as a panacea for the troubled mind.

I'm getting like TV soap guys, she told herself. They grabbed a double Scotch when things went wrong and a couple more when things went right. The women drank mostly gin or vodka, but since neither of those was any good for cooking, they did not find their way to the cottage.

Anyway, by the time Cleo got home she had decided that a strong coffee would be just as effective. What she needed now was presence of mind, not inebriation.

***

Hardly had Cleo had time to put the espresso machine on when Gary phoned.

"You were not in your office, Cleo. Is something amiss?"

“Are you cancelling dinner, Gary?

“No, but you sound strange, Cleo. Has something happened?”

He did not wait for Cleo to reply. She would have told Gary about her visit to Mrs Temple, but Gary announced the purpose of his phone call. It was to report that the school blazer had been scrutinized by forensics.

Cleo tried to clear her mind of Mrs Temple and concentrate on the comparatively trivial problem of that school girl’s possible drug-taking.

"That white powder in one of the pockets is stretched heroin, Cleo. Bad stuff. Someone is making a mint out of those kids and probably killing them in the process."

"That’s awful. What next?"

"Get onto the girl's mother. She's to make sure the girl gets a blood test very soon. You needn't tell her it's for drugs, but get the name of the doctor and prewarn him in confidence. The test will show up any substance that's in it."

"OK. Let’s hope the girl’s clean."

"Has Colin found out anything useful about Mrs Temple?"

Cleo hesitated.

"Aha. So you went there yourself this morning, I expect."

Cleo hesitated.

"Come on. Don't dither. Did she say anything useful?"

"There’s too much to tell over the phone. Come to dinner anyway."

"I came yesterday. Won't Robert smell a rat?"

Cleo laughed.

"Why the hell should he?"

"Handsome young policeman calls on private sleuth dot dot dot."

"Are you propositioning me, Gary?"

"I’ve stopped trying, Cleo. The ball is in your court now.”

“I didn’t know it was in yours, Gary.”

I'll come to dinner. I hope it's worth my while."

"It will be. I can promise that."

"Gotta go now. I have a curious case on my hands."

"Not Burton?"

"Ticking over."

"I'm curious."

"Curiosity killed the cat, Cleo."

“Not this one!”

Cleo set 4 places on the dining table. She wasn't sure if Gloria would be home in time for dinner. Only two more days before she could start cleaning up after Gareth Morgan.

"Who's the fourth, Cleo?" Robert wanted to know. "No, let me guess… Hasn't he got a home to go to?"

"You'll find out soon enough, Robert."

"Don't scare me."

"I have to tell him what I experienced today, and I'm sure you wouldn't want to miss out."

"Drop a hint, Cleo. The suspense is killing me."

"It's about Mrs Temple."

"I’ll wait. I’ll be here before seven."

“So I’m cooking, am I?” said Cleo.

“Veg, salad and Pots. I’ll bring the steaks and throw them on the BBQ grill.”

“October is not a BBQ month, Robert.”

“It is now. Cheerio!”

***

Gloria phoned to say she would be watching some dancing and would warm up her dinner later. Cleo was glad her mother had other plans and hoped she would not change her mind and come home. Cleo phoned Dorothy, who was also waiting to hear what Cleo had to say about Mrs Temple. Dorothy was glad to take Gloria’s place at the dining table.

“You are not just taking her place, Dorothy,” Cleo assured her. “I want you here. Something happened this afternoon that you must hear about.”

“That sounds ominous,” said Dorothy. “I’ll be there.”

***

Gary turned up at three minutes past six. Cleo wondered if he'd been waiting out of sight of the cottage so that he would not arrive early. But Robert had beaten him to it. He had bashed the steaks tame and had virtually taken over the kitchen.

"I hope your wife doesn't mind you coming here," Robert said pointedly. “Rare, medium or well done, Gary?”

"She's on the way to Spain," said Gary.

“Where’s Charlie?” said Cleo.

“My wife has taken Charlie with her.”

There was a sob in Gary’s voice. Cleo went over to him and hugged him, despite Robert’s presence.

“Don’t you have custody, Gary?” Robert asked, ignoring Cleo’s gesture.

“Yes, but my wife does, too. Maybe time in Spain will be good for Charlie. She can at least learn a foreign language.”

Gary's tone of voice forbade any further questions.

***

"Red or white wine, Gary?" asked Cleo as she placed a huge bowl of mixed salad on the table. She was glad Robert had thought of getting some ready-chilled Riesling from the off-licence. They sometimes drank wine with their dinner, but having nowhere to store it, Robert simply bought a bottle from the off-licence on the way home. Red might have been more traditional, but they could fall back on Robert’s stock of Australian Gamay that tasted like Beaujolais if you weren’t a connoisseur and often found its way into gravy. Dorothy preferred white wine from Germany, whatever meat was on the menu.

“Half a glass, thanks.”

“Mixed?”

“No. Red, thanks.”

“I didn’t expect to see you here, Gary,” said Dorothy, who had arrived only minutes after being invited and minutes before Gary.

“Nice to see you again, Dorothy.”

Gary’s voice was flat. He sounded really cut up and Cleo would have loved to put her arms round him and comfort him, but she couldn’t. Not in that company. Then she did, anyway, and more than once.

“I think we’re in for a treat,” said Dorothy.

“Or trick!” said Gary, looking at Cleo. He had tears in his eyes. Cleo hoped he was not going to break down.

“Halloween isn’t for nearly two weeks,” Robert chipped in. “The food’s going for grabs, folks.”

After the main course, grilled steaks and an exquisite root vegetable mash doused in a rich gravy concoction laced with the famous Bordeaux, Robert went to make coffee and Gary cleared away the used plates and cutlery. The two men came back together. Robert looked less tense. Cleo wondered what Gary had said to him.

"Sit down you guys and listen."

Cleo proceeded to tell them what Mrs Temple had told her.

"I'll get a squad car down there right away. We can't have her running around scot free."

"Don't do that, Gary. She told me in confidence and you'd be spoiling the show. She trusted me with the truth and until you have evidence you can't keep her locked up."

"Is that really the truth?" Robert wanted to know.

"She killed those two guys without batting an eyelid, Robert, and it’s possible that she also killed Shirley."

"Her step-daughter?"

"Or her own daughter."

"Why the ‘or’?"

"Because she spun irrational tales about Shirley's parentage, including one about Shirley being his daughter of an earlier marriage. I don't know what to believe."

“Mrs Temple sounds as mad at a hatter,” said Dorothy.

“She probably is, Dorothy, but that does not mean she was mad when she killed those other two victims.”

"I can't NOT do anything now I know what she has done, Cleo," Gary said.

“Nonsense, Gary,” said Dorothy.

 “The fact is that a mad woman told Cleo she had committed  two murders, Dorothy,” said Gary with deliberate slowness.

“Don’t preach at me, young man,” said Dorothy.

Cleo intervened.

"Look at it this way. You have no proof whatsoever, Gary. It’s possible that Mrs Temple will be diagnosed as insane even if she was just evil when she killed those two guys. Just forget what I told you."

"But she threatened you, Cleo," protested Robert, who now looked very anxious indeed. "And she's obviously mad enough to carry it through. She might have magic powers and make the axe turn on me when I’m chopping the chops."

Robert was in a panic. Gary had perked up and even laughed at the idea that Mrs Temple had supernatural powers.

"Robert's right, Cleo," said Dorothy. “Police are not allowed to keep dark secrets to themselves.”

“If more relatives spilt the beans on their nearest and dearest, our prisons would be even more crowded,” Cleo pointed out. “It’s probably just as well that so many get away with their transgressions.”

"Can’t you detain her on a different charge?" Dorothy asked.

"Why don't you just forget I told you, Gary?"

"That's not how my job works."

"That's how it should work."

Gary pondered for a while.

"I'll keep quiet if you promise to tell me everything, Cleo. Every tiny detail. Nothing left out. No selective amnesia."

"It's a deal, Gary. No selective amnesia on your part, either!"

"You have my word."

“We’ll go to HQ after dinner and you’ll make an official statement, Cleo.”

“OK, if you think I should.”

“I’ll take you in my car and bring you back safely.”

"But let's have some coffee first and I’ll phone Colin. I think he's onto something."

***

A few minutes later they were all listening on the phone's loudspeaker to Colin's amazing revelation that Mrs Temple had been Mrs Hatherton for a couple of weeks, then someone had told the police anonymously that there was already a Mrs Hatherton in South Africa.  Of course, May Temple claimed she hadn't known about the other wife and Hatherton was let off with a fine after donating to a police recreation fund at Golder’s Green. The marriage was annulled and the British Mrs Hatherton married a Mr Temple soon after. Mr Temple had been devoted to Shirley. May Temple might not have known for certain who Shirley’s father was, but she was probably the mother and Shirley was fathered by Hatherton during that ultra-short marriage, Colin thought.

So she was pregnant when she married Temple and might not know if Hatherton is the father."

"Sex and the city there, Cleo,” said Colin. “She isn't going to reveal all. She might not even remember."

"But DNA tells the truth, Colin, and that might make the tale about hating Shirley even more of a spoof," said Cleo. "Why did she have to lie about her?"

"She's unbalanced," said Robert.

“Hi Robert,” said Colin. “I agree.”

“I wonder if Hatherton knows he had a daughter, assuming she was his." Dorothy pondered.

“Hi, Dorothy,” said Colin. “Gary can get forensics onto this.”

“I will,” said Gary.

“Great,” said Colin. “And Hi, Gary! I’ll have to move on now. Research to do online. Cheers everyone.”

***

Gary commented that he thought Hatherton could have been responsible for Shirley's death, believing she had some evidence against him.

"Having met her, I think Mrs Temple is capable of anything.” said Cleo. “She probably didn't want the baby once she knew the marriage to Hatherton was null and void, so she told everyone that it wasn’t hers and she was looking after it for her new husband.”

“Do women do that sort of thing?” said Robert.

“Women get up to all sorts of tricks,” said Gary.

“The voice of an expert,” said Robert, who disliked Gary’s show of chauvinism.

“I’ll ignore that,” said Gary.

“Don’t be catty, Robert,” Cleo said. “May Temple made the best of things by marrying the stolid Mr Temple and even endured the situation for many years until he was unfaithful and sealed his own fate."

"The Temples can't have had much of a marriage," remarked Robert, who was trying to get the threads unravelled. "Imagine being married for all those years after bumping the rival off, then bumping your partner off. Surely there are other means of escape."

"Not for Mrs Temple there weren’t," said Cleo. “She chose the easiest way out of her dilemma, but the girl’s murder was probably a spontaneous reaction."

"It's a weird story," said Gary.

***

"Colin was busy in other corners of the world today,” said Cleo. “In the records of the agency that employs Mr Silver's hirelings, there was also a short note about Mrs Temple.”

“What was he doing there?”

“I don’t just work for HQ, Gary.”

Robert smiled at Gary’s squirming after that comment. Gary pressed on.

“It’s hard to recognize what is relevant about Mrs Temple,” Gary commented.

"Meaning what, Gary?" said Colin.

“Gary meant that we’d just asked ourselves about that and you popped up with the answer!” said Cleo.

"I came to dinner, Colin."

Cleo hoped Gary would not ask Colin how he'd obtained his information. You don't ask private sleuths that. If you did, you'd be interfering with their working methods and spoiling your chances of finding facts you couldn't get at strictly legally. It was up to the private eye to keep his nose clean.

***

“We’ll get that statement over now, shall we. Cleo?”

“Is that OK with you, Robert?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Not really,” said Cleo.

“Then I’ll clear up here and take Dorothy home.”

“No need, Robert.”

“Every need, Dorothy.”

“Don’t wake me when you get in, Cleo. I have to get to the wholesaler’s early. We’ve just eaten that last T-bones.””

“OK.”

***

Cleo and Gary did not speak during the drive to HQ. They went into Gary’s office and composed a statement on what Cleo had heard from Mrs Temple. Then they got back into Gary’ car and drove to his flat. Cleo spent the night there. She might not be at home when Robert got up to go to the wholesaler’s, but she did not care. What really mattered to Cleo was being near Gary and consoling him for the loss of his daughter. She had experienced at first hand the ache of losing a child.

***

Shirley Temple’s fate had faded in significance for both Cleo and Gary. As the lovers lay entwined, all they wanted to think of was one another. If there was to be little or no future for them, at least there was a here and now. Cleo would give Robert’s protests short shrift.  She would tell him the truth and he would live with it or not, as he chose.